


at first

by nereid



Category: The Hour (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-19
Updated: 2021-03-19
Packaged: 2021-03-28 08:27:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30136761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nereid/pseuds/nereid
Summary: It would be easier, she supposes, if the memories faded somehow, if she could just make herselfforget.
Relationships: Hector Madden/Marnie Madden
Kudos: 1





	at first

**Author's Note:**

> Archiving. Written years ago for a ficathon, for the prompt: The Hour, Marnie/Hector, the early years. For streussal @ LJ

At first there were too many branches  
so he cut them and then it was winter.  
_He meaning you._  
Richard Siken

  


She remembers.

The years before the bloody middle (the years when she never ever would have used the word _bloody_ ). The (sometimes) figurative sunshine and (sometimes) literal promises of eternal devotion. It would be easier, she supposes, if the memories faded somehow, if she could just make herself

forget

(that he used to get up early on Sundays to bring home the paper, and how she would always make sure to have fresh coffee in those white cups that she picked out herself, and how she'd always go to open the door for him, and how she would always find him smiling when she opened the said door, _good morning, darling, good morning to you too_ , even if he'd already said good morning, and even if was raining outside and he hated walking in the rain, he would still smile and kiss her and sometimes later, in the kitchen, he would kiss her even when she pretended she didn't want him to, like when she was trying out a new pudding recipe and he stand behind her, and he would slide his hands around her waist, and kiss that spot on her neck and sometimes she allowed herself to ignore the pudding and she would let him carry her to their bedroom and they wouldn't leave for hours).

She doesn't forget.

She doesn't forget (can't forget), and sometimes, when they lie in bed, she can't forget so hard that she has to press her lips tight against her pillow to stop herself from screaming.

_You loved me once. How could you've forgotten?_

But she never does scream, and he never does hear, and besides, how can you remind someone of something they've chosen to forget?

You can't, and she doesn't.

But she doesn't forget (can't forget, won't forget) and perhaps that's its own sort of triumph.


End file.
